


Lyrical

by Maliciouspixie5



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:41:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9431093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maliciouspixie5/pseuds/Maliciouspixie5
Summary: It's time to debrief Eurus.  This leads to something shocking.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dixiebell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dixiebell/gifts).



> LOL, this is what happens when I visit Dixiebell late at night and we compare notes on the latest season of Sherlock. Dix is convinced she talked him into it.
> 
> If you are a Tumbler addict go see what Dixiebell came up with. “The Characters of Sherlock explained by Queen Lyrics. You should have heard us on the patio singing madly “Bicycle”, you know that song is so Irene. We did disagree on Mrs Hudson. I must insist that she just screams (loudly, wink, wink) Fat Bottomed Girls. It’s the line about a naughty nanny.   
> http://dixiebell.tumblr.com/post/156118901927

Lyrical

 

Sherrinford Island, Five years ago…

 

His favor to Mycroft Holmes leads him deep underground on a prison island. For a moment he was worried that it was an elaborate trap but the more he sees the more intrigued he is. He is greeted by the warden and escorted through the prison to an elevator, after a long drop down it opens to a guards area and then to a single cell. A modern obioulette for one woman, oh this is getting better. 

 

She stands with her back to the glass dressed in white pajamas, head bent forward, long dark hair falling around her hidden face. He thinks in a mad bout of humor of a movie about a girl and a well, he thinks it was call The Ring or something. The cell is so drab, so gray, so modern mad house; it gives him a delicious thrill. It’s even got the thick Hannibal Lecter glass separating the prisoner from the guards. 

 

He walks forward ignoring all the proximity warnings to keep so far back from the glass and stands so close that he can see his breath in a little foggy patch. He waits for the prisoner to acknowledge him but she never stirs. After nearly five minutes of no movement in aggravation he pulls out his iPod and clicks his music back on. It’s not loud, just a quiet whisper of Freddy Mercury singing about Breaking Free from his shoulders where the ear buds rest. But the prisoners head comes up, she must have ears like a bat to hear the faint tune playing from his iPod. She turns slowly and approaches the glass. Like him proximity has no meaning, they are almost the same height and they stand each just a fraction away from the glass.

 

Her eyes are a blue green with flecks of yellow. They say eyes are windows to the soul, if that is so he wonders where this soul is hiding. She is as hollow as he, and he thinks he may have met his other half. When she speaks it’s with a soft educated voice. “I want to break free, how odd Mr. Moriarty. I would expect it to be Under Pressure? Or if you were feeling a little tongue in cheek Bohemian Rhapsody,” and she starts to sing in a surprisingly strong clear voice. “Momma, just killed a man, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead. Momma,” abruptly she stopped, “Well, that’s far enough you get my meaning.

Yes, James Moriarty thinks to himself, this is his other half. “Personally I like the one with the lines about bullets ripping to the sound of a beat.” He smiles darkly and it is reflected in her smile. They are both quiet for a moment listening to the song and devouring each other with their eyes. The music plays and like two mating snakes their heads twist in a slitherin dance. 

 

It is she who breaks the silence. “I can help you break free Mr. Moriarty, and I promise it will be glorious.”

 

“Call me James.”

 

This was the first of many visits to the island for James Moriarty.

/

E/J

/ 

Now

 

Three people sit in a conference room around a dark wood table in stiff overstuffed leather chairs. Two men and a woman, with the men on one side of the table the woman opposite and shackled.

 

Mycroft Holmes is in his most elaborate of all his suits. He likes to think of them as his battle armor and today he has on his strongest. He will need it. His brother Sherlock has dressed in a tight fitting blue number. He knows it looks good on him by how John’s eyes dilate every time he wears it. John also breathes a bit faster and unconsciously licks his lips six percent more. It has become his favorite suit.

 

“Brothers mine, how kind of you to visit,” Eurus says turning her attention to Sherlock. She studies him for a moment, “Well, brother, you finally got to play doctor, I’m so proud.” She smiles secretively. “It’s so much more fun than playing pirates don’t you think?”

 

Sherlock looks at her blankly but if you look deeper, really observe you can see a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth. Oh, he does, like to play doctor that is. 

 

Mycroft breaks off the staring match between the two. “Eurus, we are not here to tease Sherlock. We need to discuss Jim Moriarty.” 

 

“Jim, Jim, Jim, Jiminy. Crazy. Stone cold crazy.” She sings the last in a singsong voice. “You know that’s a song by Queen. “Mm mm,” she mimics a sensual moan, “Jim and I, we spoke our love through lyrics. He said he loved the thousand and one yellow daffodils that danced about my head.” She giggled mischievously.

 

“Really, Eurus can we speak sensibly. We need to know how involved you were with Jim.” Mycroft implores, he is in no mood for whimsy or madness. “We need to know what you helped him plan.” They had destroyed Jim’s web, it took time, tears, and much heart ache but eventually they ended the spider. But this new development with Eurus has added questions, she is so unpredictable. Sherlock looks at him thoughtfully, observing Mycroft’s look of concealed panic. He is computing something in that big brain of his, watching them both think brings a giggle from Eurus.

 

Sherlock turns slowly from Mycroft’s questioning gaze, to look at Eurus and asks, “Eurus, did you have Jim kill himself?”

 

Mycroft’s eyebrow rose and Eurus small secret smile grew to resemble a Cheshire cats. “Oh Mycroft, I’m so sorry, I’m truly grateful for the gift. But, like all gifts, over time I lost interest in the contents of the box.


End file.
